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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282569">Open Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lliyk/pseuds/Lliyk'>Lliyk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Frostburn [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Are We Shocked? No, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Non-bending AU, Ok I lied, Oral Sex, POV Zuko (Avatar), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Plot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:00:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28282569</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lliyk/pseuds/Lliyk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is only one thing Zuko wants to do this weekend.</p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i>Suddenly it’s not so cold outside. “You were going to answer for delivery dressed like this?”</i>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>“And what if I was?” Katara smiles and tilts her head, unbound curls swaying with the motion. “What’s it to you?”</i>
  </p>
  <p><i></i>Everything<i>, Zuko wants to say, but half way through fixing his mouth to utter the word he changes his mind. They can talk </i>later.</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Frostburn [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Open Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/laadychat/gifts">laadychat</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for sab (hi new friend) bc literally why not \o/*:･ﾟ✧ </p><p><a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/4QTwWQDW89udp0JDO2lmPI?si=VWfsII5PQte8lkd06YcvOQ">Open Up by Daniel Caesar</a>, if you feel so inclined — less <i>inspired by</i> and more <i>just what i happened to have on in the background</i>, lol. beware the typos! comments are fuel ♡.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>If Zuko has to look at another fucking render with whackjob weight lines, he is going to lose his mind. Tension holds his shoulders as he watches the last hour of his late workday slowly tick by from the corner of his computer screen, the seconds of every minute taunting him with each completion.</p><p>
  <strong>07:30:59</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>07:31:00</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>07:31:01</strong>
</p><p>Fuck, he hates it here.</p><p>Not usually, no, but today’s workload has been particularly trying, and there has been zero let up.</p><p>Ire roils through him as he lazily clicks through the AutoCAD program he’s running this week’s blueprints on and notes that the scale input is also wrong. Seriously. Who in the architectural department is letting <em> lead staff </em> get away with bringing this incomplete bullshit to his desk? On a Friday, no less?!</p><p>
  <strong>07:31:48</strong>
</p><p>Agni H. Supreme, somebody end him. <em> One more hour? </em> Hell. All he wants to do is go home for the Winter Solstice weekend, bury himself in spending time with Katara, and forget that his desk even exists. </p><p>“How about we call it,” Shiu, his stern though not unkind boss, makes his presence known on the employee floor. A collective wave of relief is palpable across the office. “I trust that all paramount work has been properly seen to. Go home, lads. I’ll see you lot on Tuesday.”</p><p>Zuko has never shut down his computer so quickly. In a blur he has it shoved into his messenger bag alongside his tie, his trench coat on, ready to brace himself for the frigid cold that will attack him between the building exit to the door of his car. He bids his boss goodbye properly because his uncle did not raise him without manners, but offers only a quick wave to the coworkers that linger in conversation. At the end of the day he is his mother’s son, and his penchant for making a quick exit for the sake of his sanity is as prominent as her cheekbones on his face.</p><p>He checks his phone for the first time since lunch as he takes the elevator down to the main floor. There are messages from his friends and a voicemail from his sister, but there is really only one set of notifications that beg his attention.</p><p><span class="u"> Katara (5:23pm)</span>: I let myself in!</p><p><span class="u"> Katara (6:00pm)</span>: <em>Attachment - 1 Image</em></p><p>Zuko stops dead in the middle of the parking lot. In his bed, a glittering-blue-eyed, red mouthed, lip-between-her-teeth and no-clothes-that-he-can-see Agni-forsaken <em> tease</em>.</p><p><span class="u"> Zuko (7:36pm)</span>: On my way. Dinner?</p><p><span class="u"> Katara (7:36pm)</span>: Wow, early! What do you want to eat?</p><p><span class="u"> Zuko (7:36pm)</span>: You.</p><p>His phone doesn’t chime back right away, so Zuko lets that marinate and beelines it for his car. It’s no South Pole, but Winter in Gaoling is <em> not </em>a joke. Thank the Spirits for heated front seats. </p><p>Katara calls him halfway through traffic, interrupting his music with the syrupy guitar of her chosen r&amp;b ringtone.</p><p>“Yes?” Zuko answers her on speaker.</p><p>“Actual food, Zuko.”</p><p>“Only if you’re the main course.”</p><p>Katara laughs down the line. “So, Azuma’s? They have a Solstice special going on.”</p><p>“Whatever you want,” Zuko tells her absently. Maybe she wasn’t hearing him. “as long as I get a mouthful of <em> you </em> when I step through the door.”</p><p>“Your usual?” Katara ignores him. Zuko lets her.</p><p>“No,” he says, weaving down the highway with a little more speed. “but you on your hands and knees on the dining room table does sound nice.”</p><p>Finally, a sharp intake of breath sends static through the call. Katara speaks up after a beat. “I’ll order dessert, too.” </p><p>“Mm-hmm,” Zuko hums long and low, both acknowledgement and dismissal. She is playing games, but he knows better. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, Katara.”</p><p>His music floods his car once more, just as he spies the sign for his highway exit. Two more songs, and he’s home. The porch light is on when he pulls into the drive, so Zuko rings the doorbell instead of fumbling with his keys. Why keys — why anything — when his girlfriend, right?</p><p>Warm light floods his gaze as his front door opens, and he drops it down only to slowly rake it upwards. Katara stands before him in nothing but fluffy socks and what is obviously a stolen tee — the large swath of plain white cotton hangs mid thigh and droops from one shoulder, revealing to him a hint of the black lace that lay hidden underneath.</p><p>“<em>Hi</em>, baby.” She greets him happily.</p><p><em> Right</em>.</p><p>Suddenly it’s not so cold outside. “You were going to answer for delivery dressed like this?”</p><p>“And what if I was?” Katara smiles and tilts her head, unbound curls swaying with the motion. “What’s it to you?”</p><p><em> Everything, </em> Zuko wants to say, but half way through fixing his mouth to utter the word he changes his mind. They can talk <em> later</em>. He does not want words anymore. He just wants her.</p><p>Zuko growls low, a short, authoritative sound that makes Katara step back as he steps forward. The front door swings closed behind him, and he locks it absently as he eyes his prize. He wants those long legs wrapped around him — those hands in his hair and his name on that mouth, still oh so red and being nibbled on again.</p><p>Katara looks up at him with wide, wondering eyes. Zuko crowds her space and gives her what they both want; he leans down to suckle that bottom lip from for himself to bite at. Katara’s hands push at his coat, and he unceremoniously lets it drop to the foyer floor. He leaves a trail of clothes through the house, divesting himself of everything but his pants in between heavy, heated kisses.</p><p>“Zuko,” Katara whines once he has her on her back, tee and bra long gone and her fingers gripping the edge of the dining table. He pulls at her panties with nothing but his teeth. “what about the food?”</p><p>Zuko discards the black slip of lace with a jerk of his chin.</p><p>“What do you mean?” He rumbles as he fits her knees over his shoulders. He holds her gaze as he lowers his mouth. “I’m eating right now.”</p><p>Sopping wet and so very ready for his attention, too. He echoes Katara’s moan as he immediately sinks his tongue into her.</p><p>“<em>Zuko</em>,” she breathes above him, and, yeah, <em> that’s </em> the sound of his name that he is looking for. “wait, it’ll be here — oh, <em> La</em>.”</p><p><em> Don’t care</em>, Zuko thinks vehemently, <em> no more waiting! </em></p><p>Zuko smooths his hands up Katara’s body and slides his palms over the swell of her breasts, her excitable sounds fueling him as he gently kneads the supple flesh in time with the flick of his tongue. Her skin is hot underneath him, and he wants her back flush to his chest so that he can share the heat; wants her on her knees begging him to touch her — but he won’t, and he’ll have his hands over hers with his mouth at her ear telling her as much while he brings her to peak again with his cock alone — and then he <em> will</em>, with feather-light circles that she <em> hates </em> but will thank him for when it drags her climax out of her right before his.</p><p>But first...</p><p>“<em>Mn</em>.” Katara threads her fingers through his hair, undoing its knot so that she can hold it fast for him instead. Zuko dives into her center, and her hips buck upward for more. He follows the movement easily, shifting as she does in order to maintain his relentless volley of licks. “Mmm <em> fuck, </em> Zuko,” Katara gasps as her hips find purposeful rhythm, fucking herself steadily now against his mouth and chin. “Zuko, baby — close, <em> close</em>, oh, please, <em> so close—</em>”</p><p>Zuko feels a surge of need at her gasping plea, a need for <em> her</em>; a need to have her shaking; crying out in ecstasy so that it can wash over him in waves of blissful pride and <em> fuel him </em> —</p><p>The doorbell rings.</p><p>“Damnit, I <em> told </em> you—” Katara sits up with a gasp. Zuko drops his hands to her waist and holds her still as he laves at her clit, making her bow haltingly above him. Where does she think she’s going? “—Zuko!”</p><p>Her thighs tremble over his shoulders. Katara falls back to the table with a shaky, desperate whisper of <em> La, Zuko</em>, and he lets that blissful pride wash right over him as her hands tighten in his hair. She’s not going <em> anywhere</em>.</p><p>“Zuko, Zuko, <em> Zuko</em>,” and with a jagged moan Katara arcs and stills around him, her fingers falling to grapple uselessly at the edge of the table for the longest of seconds. Her walls flutter around his tongue as her body begins to tremble with aftershocks, and he revels in the whiny call of his name as he greedily drinks her in.</p><p>The doorbell rings again, twice this time.</p><p>For Agni’s sake.</p><p>Zuko slides out from under Katara’s legs, tongue darting over to swipe his lips, and he laughs quietly in answer to the half hearted glare Katara shoots at him as he ambles out of the dining room.</p><p>He is rock hard and wet at the mouth, but at least he still has his slacks on. “How much is it?” He asks, swinging the door open.</p><p>“Oh, hey. It’s already paid... for...”</p><p>Zuko eases his wallet out of his pocket, quirking his brow at the man staring at him from across the threshold.</p><p>“You don’t look like a <em> Katara</em>,” the delivery guy says distractedly, clutching the large paper bag of food. “no. You.. look... <em> busy</em>.”</p><p>“Yes.” Zuko clears his throat. Is this guy daft? <em> Obviously </em> he’s <em> busy</em>. “Do you want the tip or not?”</p><p>“Just the...” The delivery guy snaps his gaze upward with a cough. “Tip. Yeah. Um, thanks man. Happy Solstice, or whatever.”</p><p>Zuko has it in him to offer a smile as he doles out the cash. He sends the bug-eyed delivery guy off with a nod and stops in the kitchen so that he can bring a plate to the dining table, where Katara is now sitting up with her ankles crossed along the arm of the nearest chair.</p><p>“You answered for delivery like this?” She mocks him, running her hand down his torso as he nears.</p><p>“Better me than you,” Zuko sets the items down in exchange for falling into the chair at Katara’s feet and promptly pulling her into his lap. “now hurry up and eat,” he tells her, burying his nose in her hair and holding her flush against his erection. “I’m starving.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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